Well, I Wasn't Expecting This
by whoknowsyourfuture
Summary: What would you do if you just happened to be reincarnated in Harry Potter? As Harry Potter? And you used to be a girl? At least I know the plot... probably. SI, sorry, couldn't resist.
1. Car Crashes Suck

Published 2/9/15

If I owned this, the epilogue would be much different.

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I woke to a cold, bright, sterile world. I heard a man's voice call, "Lily!"

"I'm fine, James." Came the weary reply.

Another voice chimed in with a, "How's the little Prongslett, Prongs?" I opened my eyes and two entirely too-familiar faces loomed over me. I screamed, and as I did, an infant's cries filled the air.

"Looks like Harry doesn't like your ugly mug, Padfoot." A man with a head of dark, messy hair and hazel eyes framed by thin lenses grinned at the other man, who had shoulder-length dark hair and silvery eyes.

'I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming, THIS HAS TO BE A DREAM!' I panicked internally. There was no way I had just been dumped in the Harry Potter universe as... wait. He said 'Harry'. Please just let that be a terrible name choice.'

"Your son..." A new voice was drowned out as I continued freaking out. 'Yup, definitely no longer female.'

'Well crap.' I thought. 'Okay, I'm in a coma, that happens all the time, my subconscious just decided I wanted a vacation in Harry Potter land. There's no way I'm actually Harry Potter. Oh, wait... um, yeah. There was no way I survived THAT particular injury. Dammit Sarah, I freaking TOLD you that you'd cause a wreck, the way you freak out about spiders. Couldn't you have waited six more months till I was in college before you proved me right?'

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Hey everybody! So this is my first story, finally got around to posting something. I really should be doing other things, but this idea just really grabbed my attention. If someone knows how I'm actually supposed to do the spacing, please tell me. I don't have a beta, so if someone's interested, just send me a message. Don't know how well I'll be updating, but I'll try to keep gaps within a month at the most. Constructive criticism please! Flames will be given to Hannibal Lector to cook his dinner. Bye!


	2. Because Fate Hates Me

Published 3/9/15

If I owned this, the movies would follow the books better.

If you think about the concept of reincarnation, it's essentially uploading yourself and your spirit into a new form, a new hard drive as it were. ~Conor Obe

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So, reincarnation. On my list of 'things that might happen when I die', reincarnation was one of the last on my list. Well, at least reincarnation where I actually could remember my former life. So there I was, living life as a baby. It's a good thing I didn't remember this my first time around, because being an infant sucks. No motor control, no bowel control, very few communication abilities, yeah. There's definitely a reason we forget these first couple of years.

And then there's the whole Voldemort issue. Yup, turns out I was right when I guessed who, what, when and where I was. Now the only thing missing is the 'How' and the 'Why'. Didn't I just win the lottery of reincarnation. I mean, my inner fan girl was in a happiness coma, and my smug side was over the moon (because I kinda consider this, if it actually is real, proof that alternate universes are real). Buuuuuuut, if all goes according to the book, my life is 95% utter crap until I'm about seventeen-point-seventy-five. And that doesn't even consider the changes I was definitely planning to make over my lifetime. I was not about to let Sirius die, thanks-very-much, and if I could help it, I was not letting my new parents die either.

Well, key word is can, isn't it.

I wanted to make changes, but I didn't know how to develop the capabilities to do so. I showered Padfoot in attention while disdaining Wormtail, but my efforts were for naught. Shortly before my first birthday, Lily and James relocated to Godric's Hollow. Dumbledore performed the Fidelius. Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper.

'Well, now I know not to trust Dumbles.' I thought darkly. 'At least not if everything goes according to cannon.'

That was one of my larger worries. If I had ended up in some random, completely AU fanfiction, then I had virtually no knowledge of what was going to happen.

To worry too much about what-ifs was useless at that point, though. I wasn't even a year and a half old; I wasn't going to be able to so much as warn anyone for a while yet. All I could really do was wait and hope for the best. Really, all I wanted was for Voldie to not find out where we were, or maybe grow a brain and realize that a toddler poses no threat. Unfortunately, thinking happy thoughts failed. On October 31st, my new parents and I were having a quiet evening. I was horribly tense, but James and Lilly passed it off as a young child's sensitivity to magic and spirits, which was logically running rampant on All Hallow's Eve. In part, they were correct, but worried anticipation of what that night might bring played a far greater part.

And then, everything went to hell.

Moldyshorts showed up, James was killed, Lilly begged for my life, Lilly died, and Voldie turned his wand on me. I glared at him as best as I could, but he just laughed.

"You won't even have the chance to defeat me, little Harry. You will die momentarily, and I shall never bow to death."

'Yeah, definitely lost some marbles there.' I muttered sarcastically in my head. 'I so wish I'd been wrong.'

"Avada Kedava!" The whacko shouted, and I felt something shift. A green light flashed, then a blue light wrapped around the deadly curse. All I saw was the shocked look on Voldemort's face.

'Huh.' I mused. 'That expression is pure Jim Moriarty. I wonder if they're related?'

Then everything went black.

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... Well, I made it in a month! Sorry, life got a little crazy. Hopefully I'll manage the next chapter sooner, but I am determined to keep all posts within a month apart. We'll see how long that lasts. Review if you want, all flames will be contributed to Judge Frollo's funeral pyre, as it was. Bye!

~whoknowsyourfuture


	3. Ten Years in a Nutshell

Published 4/9/15

If I owned this, the Ollivander experience at Harry Potter World would be much more epic.

"Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever." -Gandhi

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The next thing I was aware of was a woman's shrill scream.

"Vernon!"

Yup, there's my auntie. I sighed. I'd really, really, hoped that I'd just freaked myself out and had a stress induced nightmare, but apparently no dice.

As you could expect, that morning set the tone for the next decade or so. It was made blatantly clear to me that I was a 'burden'. However, I had a plan. I had reasoned that since I already knew pretty much everything needed to pass a typical U.S. high school education, I could rocket through at least part of my education and learn other things that would be useful. In addition to being seen as a prodigy (probably), this would have the effect of drawing positive attention to me, which would either make the Dursley's up their childcare standards or cause me to be placed in a better home. Honestly, I was hoping for the former, in order to keep more things the same as well as to avoid a certain crooked nose from poking into my business.

My plan worked...well enough.

The Dursley's didn't exactly jump for joy with how well I did in school. They did, however, start treating me a bit better after I started blasting through primary, covering in one year what normally took about seven. What can I say? I got bored reeeeaaaallly quick. The year was mostly spent on learning history from the British point of view. Things are seen very differently on opposite sides of the pond. I slowed down a bit for secondary, mostly because I was already far beyond my age group and I didn't want to look too suspicious. In addition, I started learning several different languages, such as French, Italian, German, Russian, Japanese, and Gaelic just for kicks. I also planned on being fluent in Bulgarian and Arabic by the Triwizard Tournament, and I wanted to learn Welsh somewhere along the line.

I sat my GSCE's at seven. I'd already covered the vast majority of the material in my former life, and I wasn't happy to slow myself down and wait for new things to learn. I did Sixth form in a year, and so I was ready to enter college at eight. Yeah, I went a little bit faster than I had planned in the beginning, but in my defense, I did already know pretty much all of it, and I was bored. I'd never really gone to school for socialization anyways-I just wanted to learn.

As you could expect, I got a lot of interest from universities. However, many of them were also kind of leery of a kid as young as I was. Apparently, there's something called burnout? Yeah. I'd already specialized more into the sciences, as A) I'm fascinated by science of all sorts, and B) if the Dursley's thought I would automatically disregard magic because I was super scientific about everything, they would possibly treat me better. Surprisingly, this theory actually worked. Plus, they got the accolades of 'raising' a genius. So, my time with the Dursley's went much more smoothly than I had expected.

By the time my letter came, I was finished with my non magical education, and raring to explore a world that I had never dreamed I would actually experience.

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Hey guys! So, this month was actually even more insane than last month, otherwise I probably would have had this in a week ago. If I completely mangled the timeline of the British education system, please tell me. I did actually research it, but still. I can honestly see myself blowing through school like that if I had to live it over again, because I get really bored when I think people take too long to grasp a subject even now, on my first time through. I'm not trying to make my SI a super genius, because this is a self-study on what I really think I would do, so don't expect magic to go as swimmingly. Flames shall go towards the cause of cooking all the sushi in the world!

~whoknowsyourfuture


	4. Lights, Camera, Creepy Wandmakers?

Published 5/4/15

"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." ~Arthur C. Clarke

(Because FF hates line breaks)

Finally, the moment of truth arrived. One week before my 'birthday', my Hogwarts letter arrived. I had just graduated from uni and I was waiting on tenterhooks for the next stage of my life to begin. I'd been grabbing the mail as soon as it arrived since I had gotten back to the Dursley's, just in case. When I saw the letter, I folded it up and stuffed it into my pocket. I set the rest of the mail on the table and slid into my chair for breakfast.

When the meal was over, I helped Petunia with the washing up.

"Aunt Petunia, some friends from school wanted to meet up and hang out over the next few days." I broached casually. I actually did manage to find a few friends at uni, mostly those who cared more about learning and intelligence than their pride. I wasn't actually going to meet them though; I just needed an excuse to go to Diagon Alley.

"Alright." She said, willingly enough. Once the Dursley's had figured out the status my intelligence brought, and realized how ensconced in the sciences I was, they started encouraging what friends I did have quite a bit. I think they thought that the more ties I had to the normal world I had, the less likely I would enter the magical world. Plus, it got me out of the house even more. Out of sight, out of mind, I suppose.

The next morning dawned bright and early, as I began the trip to Diagon Alley. I'd 'happened' to pass the Leaky Cauldron several times before. I'd never gone in because I decided it would be too hard to explain how, exactly, I had found the bar, realized what it was, and gone in without being noticed before turning ten at least. And once I was ten, I was too busy with uni to try balancing magic as well. But now all conflicts with time were at an end, and I had a legitimate reason to enter as well. I had to stop myself from grinning evilly and rubbing my hands together like a cheesy villain.

'fufufufu, I'm going to turn the Wizarding World on their heads by the time I'm through with them!' I thought gleefully.

I was doing my best to go into the magical world with no prior prejudices. House prejudices were honestly not a problem- Divergent emphatically pounded into me just what happens when you separate people by a handful of characteristics. No, I knew my problem was going to be more along the lines of deciphering whether or not any pureblood propaganda had any real basis behind it, or if it was simply arrogance. I had read a lot of Fanfiction where purebloods had real, necessary reasons for their prejudice against muggles and muggleborns. I still didn't know if I was truly in HP cannon, or in somebody's fannon. So, research.

Getting through the Leaky Cauldron without getting mobbed was easy enough. I'd let my hair grow long because A) it felt really weird short, and B) I would look less like a James Potter clone. Not that I was ashamed of looking like him, but I didn't want to be judged by what he was good or bad at. I had also procured contacts, because I unfortunately inherited James's bad eyesight. Now I knew how my mom and nana felt all the time with their ever increasing need for stronger glasses.

I approached the bar and said, "Excuse me, sir?"

"I'm no sir, just old Tom." The barkeep laughed. "You need the passageway opened? You look about Hogwarts age."

"Yes sir." I replied.

"Just follow me." He said, and led me through the maze of tables back to the brick wall.

"Right. When you get your wand, just tap these three bricks, on either side, to get through. Do you need any help with your shopping?" He asked.

"No sir, but thank you." I replied.

"I told you, I'm just old Tom." He said with a smile. I smiled back and nodded, and he waved me through.

(because FF hates line breaks)

Going into Diagon Alley for the first time felt a bit like walking into Disney World. The movies did it no justice. Everything was bright and flashing, words sprawled across shopfronts, advertising things like, 'Boyd's All-Purpose Cleaner- For Everything From Floors to Flatware!', 'Aggie's Acrobatic Accordions', and 'Floo Getting Grimy? Owl Funster's Cleaning Service for the Lowest Price in England!'. And just like Disney during the holiday season, the place was packed. I was almost run over several times before I managed to scale Gringott's marble steps. Surprisingly, there wasn't much in the way of lines, so I went up to the first free teller.

"Excuse me, sir. I'd like to speak to a manager." I informed the goblin politely. I didn't know if it was considered polite for goblins, but I could at least show some respect in the human fashion.

"Name." He drawled out boredly, not looking up from the sheaf of parchment he was reading.

"Harry Potter." I replied. His head shot up so quickly that I thought he might fall from his seat. He peered at me for a moment, and then nodded absently.

"Yes, I suppose you do." He murmured. "Please, follow me." He dropped out of my line of sight, and a moment later, a door opened between two of the tills. I hesitantly went through the door, and began following the goblin as he led me down a long hallway. Eventually, we reached a set of dark wooden double doors, and my guide knocked.

"Enter." called a rasping voice from behind the doors. The goblin swung the door ajar and ushered me inside. The room was a fairly plain looking study, but if you looked closely, you could see the evidence of the work put into creating and maintaining the furniture. Across the room and slightly to the side was a magnificent tiger oak desk, behind which a goblin peered at me over his spectacles.

"Who is this, Grimtooth?" he inquired in a bland tone.

"Harry Potter, sir." my newly-named guide informed him. A flash of something crossed the other goblin's gaze, and his posture, already straight as a ruler, somehow straightened even further.

"Is that so." he murmured flatly. "Well, if you truly are who you say you are, surely you would not object to a blood test?" He grinned at me sharply. I had a *sneaking* feeling that I was being tested.

"Of course." I replied with a bland smile of my own, one that never failed to convince my dorm mates at uni that no, I did not want to go on a panty raid in the girls dorm and that they should really be focusing on finals instead as well. The goblin behind the desk nodded, and pulled a silver basin and athame from a drawer in his desk. He withdrew a moderately sized vial with violently purple contents from another drawer, and shook out seven drops into the bowl. He waved me forward, and I approached the desk.

"Thirteen drops are needed. Let them fall exactly in the center of the potion." he ordered abruptly, passing me the dagger. Obligingly, I sliced the tip of my left forefinger, and began squeezing out the required amount of blood. Once I finished, I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket, wiped down the blade, and pressed the cloth against the cut. Once again, I caught a flash whip across the seated goblin's gaze, and I could've sworn I saw him almost smile. He dipped the bottom of a sheet of parchment into the mixture, and spidery words began crawling up the page. Within moments, the page was full. The goblin withdrew the sheet from the basin, and studied it for a moment. Then he set it down on the desk and gestured at me.

"Please, Mr. Potter, sit down." I sat in one of the austere chairs in front of the desk. He waved again, this time at my guide, who then slipped back through the doors.

"So, Mr. Potter, what can Gringott's do for you today? I am Ragnok, head of the London branch." The goblin said.

I nodded respectfully at him, and said, "It is an honor to meet you sir. I came here today because I heard that this was the best bank in the Wizarding world, and wanted to inquire as to whether or not my parents left a will."

(Because ff hates line breaks)

I walked out of Gringott's with a lot of money and a just as much to think about. It turned out that my parents had left a will, which explicitly stated that I was not to go to the Dursley's. Ever. They had the MALFOY'S listed, but not the Dursley's. I think there was something they were trying to get across with that point. Unfortunately, they did not have Wormtail listed as their secret keeper- I could only assume that they hadn't updated their wills before going under the Fidelius. So, I had to figure out another way to get Sirius out of Azkaban.

My parents also weren't as well off as I had expected. Oh, I had more than enough funds to get me through Hogwarts and maybe a decade of living on my own if I was stingy, but appeared that between their wills- which were finally executed, seeing as they were sealed before I had requested to see them, overriding anyone else's orders (Bloody Dumbledore), and a multitude of transactions up until their deaths, there wasn't much left of what my grandparents had left for their son. I assumed that my parents had played the bankroller for the Order of the Barbequed Peacock. There were a handful of properties though, which would save me from trying to find a place to live over the summers, as well as possibly provide a bit of a buffer if I ever ran short of cash. Renting the ones not in use could be an option, depending on their condition.

I pushed those worries out of my head and decided to get everything I needed on my list before I hit the bookshop. Luggage would probably be a good place to start.

(Because ff hates line breaks)

I shopped quickly and frugally for most of my list. Unsurprisingly, most of the vendors tried to talk me into things I didn't need for exorbitant prices. The first year potion supplies package? If you bought all the supplies by themselves, you spent a little more time and about half the money. Eventually, it was time for a wand.

Ollivander's was about as creepy as I had expected. When he came out of nowhere, I didn't react, as I had been expecting it. That's when things started getting creepy.

"You're not quite what I expected to see, Mr. Potter." He said abruptly, after peering at me for a moment. I gave him a weird look, not knowing what he was talking about.

"You see," he continued, "it is necessary for a wand maker to be able to see into the essence of someone to identify what, exactly, they require in a wand." He looked at me expectantly, and I stiffened, suddenly wary.

"This includes a way of seeing twice-born souls." He concluded. I quietly freaked out. It had never occurred to me that this had happened before, or that anyone had a way of telling when it occurred. He chuckled.

"I won't hurt you, child." He said kindly. "Here, come sit, and I'll tell you a story." I hesitated when he beckoned, uncertain. He didn't seem like he was about to flip out, and I had a feeling that the story would pertain to how he knew about these 'twice-born souls', but I hadn't told anyone about my past life. Telling a total stranger that I was a female muggle high school student reborn into a character in a popular children's series wasn't exactly the grandest idea I'd ever had, but what choice did I have? Seeing my pause, Ollivander beckoned again, and I followed.

He led me back through the stacks of wands and into a cozy little room crammed with bookcases. He waved his hand absently, and two comfortable looking armchairs and a small table with a tea service popped into existence.

"Go ahead, sit down and help yourself." The wand maker told me, wandering over to the bookshelves. I did so, and watched as he hunted briefly through the books shoved helter-skelter into the shelves. He pulled a couple of old, simply bound journals from the collection, and approached the chairs. He set them on the little table and fixed himself a cup of tea. Once he had settled into the other chair, he sighed.

"I suppose you're rather worried about how I know your secret." He began.

"I can sort of guess." I replied quietly. "Do you know Legilimency?" I asked.

His eyes sharpened. "Yes, I use a mild form of it. I am, however, surprised that you do know of it." I winced. "But I'll leave off asking until you have heard my story. Now, centuries ago, my many-times great-grandfather was born. My family had already been crafting wands for a few generations, as wands were just coming into common use with the creation of Hogwarts. Now, my ancestor was a very brilliant man, and revolutionized the craft of wand making, but he had a great secret. He had memories of a life he had not lived, of a time that did not yet exist. He could not explain why he had those memories, or how, but he was determined to unravel the mystery. He traveled widely, and on his journeys, he sometimes came across others like himself. He found that they had a few things in common. They had all lived in eras that had fairly advanced technology, none of them had known of real magic in their former lives, and all had died young." Here he stopped, and looked at me knowingly. "I assume that you also fall under those categories?" I nodded. He smiled, and continued.

"Soon enough, my ancestor realized that, though my family's ways for crafting wands were typically very successful, those same methods never quite worked for those he dubbed 'twice-born'. He eventually discovered that the wands that worked best for the twice-born always required something from their owner; hair, blood, and so on. This also ensured the wand's eternal loyalty to their wielders. He made his knowledge available to the rest of the family, but ensured that it would go no farther, unless the family member in question passed it on to a twice-born. And so, every twice-born my family has come across since has been told this tale, and offered the choice of utilizing the better wand for them. At times, twice-born have come for my family for counsel, and because of our heritage, we have never turned them away. And so, I believe it is time for your story, should you choose to share it."

"I'm not sure how much I should really say." I began. "Before I was born here, I was pretty much the normal American high school girl." Before I could continue, Ollivander butted in eagerly.

"You were female?" He asked excitedly.

"Yes." I said slowly.

"None of the twice-born my family has come across was ever the opposite gender in their former life." He explained impatiently. "Have you experienced any difficulties with your change in gender?"

"I hadn't really thought of it." I said, thinking. "Puberty hasn't exactly hit yet. I know it's going to be nice not to have a period. I hadn't had much romantic experience when I died. And I didn't really find someone attractive unless I liked who they were as a person. I think I probably fall under the category of demisexual. I was asked if I was a lesbian a couple of times, because I hadn't had a boyfriend by the time I turned eighteen. I'm not opposed to dating either gender, I guess. Think I lean more towards guys though, if anything."

"But you don't feel...wrong?" He asked cautiously.

I shrugged. "I feel like myself." I said simply. He still looked at me a bit concernedly, but waved at me to continue.

"Anyways, I'm not sure how much I should say, because I think I know what might happen for the next seven years or so." I paused, waiting for an explosion. Ollivander leaned forward with interest.

"How?" He asked. I sighed.

"I grew up reading the Harry Potter series." He looked completely unsurprised.

"So do most Wizarding children, now. How do you know there wasn't just bleed off in your world?"

"What?" I asked, confused. "Harry Potter series? I haven't done anything interesting yet. Today was my first day even interacting with the Wizarding world...no." I looked at him, pleading. "Please don't tell me they made up stories about my non-existent childhood adventures." He looked down sheepishly.

"I'm afraid so." He admitted. "To be fair, they didn't even try to make them realistic. You're described as a preteen or teenager in all of them. They didn't try to make it look like you were slaying Nundus at six."

"But I was still slaying Nundus." I stated flatly. "Yes." He conceded. I buried my face in my hands.

"Great." I moaned. "Now I won't just have the useless Boy-Who-Lived crap. No, I have to have idiots who will believe that I actually did crazy as fuck shit growing up. Great." I looked back up at the elderly wand maker. "But there's nothing about me actually attending Hogwarts?" I asked.

"Not so far as I know." He said.

"Well there we go." I leaned back wearily. "Different books. Really, at this point I'm just praying I'm in the cannon Harry Potter verse. Some of the fanfictions get really crazy and impossible to predict."

"What do you mean?" Ollivander inquired.

"In my old world, people would write their own versions of a popular book. Those works were called fanfictions, and they could be incredibly similar to what the original book was, or so different as to be a completely different story, just with the same or very similar characters. There were millions of stories branching off of the Harry Potter universe, just on one site. It would be impossible for me to have any foreknowledge of what would happen if this is a fannon, or fanfiction cannon, of something I never read or forgot about." I explained.

"Wouldn't that be better, though?" Ollivander asked. "You wouldn't have to worry about changing events in the timeline."

I smiled grimly. "Precisely." I replied. "I already know that some things are wrong. For instance, you know how Sirius Black is in Azkaban? He was in the cannon too. And both here and in the cannon, he's been unjustly imprisoned. Pettigrew was my parents' Secret Keeper. He betrayed them to Voldemort." I could tell Ollivander was shocked.

"How do you know?" He asked.

"I was there for the ceremony." I returned. "I was there when Dumbledore cast the Fidelius on the house we were in, with Pettigrew as the Secret Keeper."

(because ff hates line breaks)

Muahahahaha! I feel evil now. My first cliffhanger... :) On the upside, this is five days early, and I'll update again by the fourth of June. Faster if I get reviews! They remind me that I should be working on this more. I finally understand why authors ask for reviews. Flames shall be contributed to the demise of the Death Star!

May the fourth be with you!

~whoknowsyourfuture

P.S. If anyone wants to proofread this, be my guest. Just pop me a message- I caught quite a few errors after I first posted this.


	5. And Of Course He Saw This Coming

Published 6/4/15

If I owned this, I wouldn't need to buy lotto tickets.

"What we usually consider as impossible are simply engineering problems... there's no law of physics preventing them." ~Michio Kaku

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For a long moment, there was silence.

"Dammit Dumbledore, how many more people are you going to make suffer for your cursed 'Greater Good'?" Ollivander muttered angrily. I sighed in relief.

"I was worried you wouldn't believe that Dumbles left Sirius to suffer when he could prove his innocence." I told the wand maker.

"Nay lad, we Ollivander's have to look beyond the surface of a person to properly match a wand with them. I've sold Albus Dumbledore two wands- one when he went off to Hogwarts, and one after his sister's death. He said his original wand stopped working for him- that's always a bad sign. When he got his first wand, I figured he'd do well for himself. But with his second wand, well..." he trailed off. "There's not much that can make a wand reject you. You can lose your wand's allegiance easily enough, and for any one person there can be a dozen wands they'll be compatible with. Typically, you only ever get one true wand, though. As you age, your compatibility with other wands and your likelihood of finding another true wand gets lower and lower. I managed to find Albus Dumbledore's true wand on his very first visit to me. His first wand was of walnut wood and dragon heartstrings- both of which symbolize wisdom. But, after his sister's death..." Ollivander shrugged. "His second wand was very difficult to locate. It ended up that I had to create one for him, not just find one from my stock. That has happened less than a dozen times in my life. It was less rare for my early ancestors, as they had yet to build up a large stock, but generations of my family's craftsmanship have gone into these shelves of wands. Those who need a custom have always ended up different, in one way or another. Anyways, his second wand was made of elder wood with a core of a fwooper's feather. I do not think I need to explain the significance of those." I shook my head.

"But what was so strange about Dumbledore's wand rejecting him? I mean, theoretically, if I'm understanding you right, wouldn't any large shift in your core values cause a rejection? Like if a lifelong thief suddenly repented for some reason and decided to dedicate his life to helping others instead?" I inquired, curious.

Ollivander frowned. "It's a bit harder to pin down than that. You see, wands typically start out rather neutrally inclined- that is, most are not naturally better at dark or light magic, which is a discussion for another time," he added hastily as I opened my mouth to ask a question. "Just as most wizards and witches are not automatically dark or light, but rather develop an orientation as they age and learn different types of magic, so do wands adapt to what they have been used for. If you took a wand that had been used for less than a decade, it would be much easier to change its orientation from dark to light or vice versa. That's why inherited wands typically work so poorly- their histories have tilted them in their wielders preferences, and it is very unlikely that anyone who wields that wand after them will be of the exact same mindset. Even when a wand has been won, there are some which will work far better than another will, because of their past." Ollivander lectured.

"So he didn't just change his worldview, but his, what, magical intent?" I asked slowly, confused.

"Actually, that's quite an apt way of putting it. Whatever led up his sister's death- of which I have suspicions, but no proof- changed him from the lad that first came into my shop decades ago. I believe that the death of his sister was the final straw which caused his wand to reject him- why, exactly is hard to pin down, but still worrisome." Ollivander replied.

"Hang on." I said suddenly. "I don't know if it'll be the same here, but Voldemort had the same wand from the time he was eleven until shortly before his death, and the change was his choice. Does that mean Dumbledore is..." I trailed off, unsure.

"Yew and Phoenix feather. Death and life. Well, it doesn't necessarily have to mean much other than Tom knew his path in life far better than Albus did, but it can also forewarn that Albus will be the greater threat. And, to be honest, from what I've seen of Dumbledore's doings over the past decades, I'm almost sure of that." Ollivander mumbled.

I lifted a brow. "What do you mean?"

"Just look at the laws passed by the Wizengamot over the last decade or so and you'll see." The wand maker said bitterly.

All of a sudden he sprang upright again, melancholy mood gone. "Alright then, enough of this depressing talk. We need to get you fitted for a wand. Come, come." He said brightly, bouncing out of his chair and back even further through the stacks of wands. I followed, still recovering from the sudden mood change.

When I caught up, he was burrowing through a large cabinet filled with odd trinkets. Every so often, he'd pull out a lump of wood, a glittering instrument, or braids and clumps of fur and feathers. He set them all down on the same table we had been sitting by, which seemed to be sentiment and able to understand its master's wild ramblings. Finally, Ollivander had everything in order. He beckoned me forward.

"You're a custom job," he said briskly, "all Twice-Born are. Makes you a little trickier to match. Now, I need you to hold this," he handed me a long, silvery object, "close your eyes, and think about what makes you an individual, in both of your lives. When it tugs, move in the direction it indicates." I did as told, and soon the instrument started pulling me to the right. I followed it, and heard a tap as the object collided with a cabinet that had been sitting away from where Ollivander had been bustling.

"All right, now do the same with this one." Ollivander murmured almost too softly for me to hear. He pressed a roundish object into my hands as he withdrew the sticklike instrument from my grip. This time the instrument nudged me backwards, so I pivoted and walked back towards where I had entered the break in the shelves. I only walked a short way, bumping slightly into the aisles periodically as I went. I finally came to an end at what seemed to be a bit of an end cap.

Ollivander laughed. "You're even more of a tricky customer than usual!" He sounded delighted. "You can open your eyes now." I opened them and stared straight into a glass case where a beautifully formed wand sat cradled on a stand. "That was the very last wand my great-great-grandfather ever made, in remembrance of his wife, a Twice-Born he had once crafted for."

"Why did this lead me to it?" I asked lifting the instrument slightly.

"I'll be combining this with your griffin feathers to build your true wand, lad. You're very interesting, even if you had only matched with this wand on its own! Now, let's go back and finish up here."

The old wand maker led me back through the maze of shelving to where we had begun. "I'll need seven strands of your hair, to make sure this wand binds to you completely." He said briskly. I started plucking, and when I had seven, I handed them to the wand maker. He accepted them and then started shooing me out of the shop.

"Go and get some reading material, I can tell you're itching for it. Your wand won't be ready until about this time next week. Come back then and we'll talk some more." He ushered me out the door, closing it behind me. Seconds later, a 'Closed' sign appeared in the window. Shrugging, I did as he said, and headed to Flourish and Blotts.

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So I made this deadline by the skin of my teeth! 'sweatdrop' This chapter just did not want to come. It's a little shorter than what I was aiming for, but I'll make up for it next chapter. Again, reviews are a wonderful reminder for me because I am easily distracted. Flames shall be contributed to defeating the Huns, cause all those fireworks need some way to be lighted. Thanks for reading!

~whoknowsyourfuture

Hi… So, this isn't an actual update, I just went through and edited the chapters and changed a bit near the end in this chapter. Pretty much my entire plan for this fic went out the window a couple of weeks ago, so it may be a bit until I actually start posting again. I swear I will have another, longer chapter out by the end of February. Thanks for being so patient.

~whoknowsyourfuture


	6. Reading, Sweet, Sweet Reading

Published 3/1/16

If I owned this, I wouldn't have student loans.

"All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them." ~Galileo Galilei

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Buying books was… frustrating. I'm not talking day-before-classes-and-none-of-your-required-books-are-in frustrating, but oh-lets-stick-three-random-sets-of-art-books-in-with-the-engineering-books frustrating. There was no rhyme or reason to how the books were sorted, until you arrived at the back of the store. You see, every book declared the author's blood status right underneath their name on the inside cover. Three guesses for how the store was organized and the first two don't count. Yeah, purebloods were right at the front of the store, which oh-so-coincidentally also happened to be where all of the first year textbooks for Hogwarts students were. Half-bloods were behind the purebloods for the most part, though it seemed like authors from more prominent families were given precedence. And way back at the very furthest corner from the door was the single bookshelf for muggleborn authors. I'm pretty sure that you can guess my inner reaction.

Anyways, I picked up all my textbooks, what I could remember of the second year textbooks, and a couple of beginner Arithmancy and Ancient Runes books before I dove into the rest of the store. I ended up buying several books on pureblood traditions, a couple of books on the Ministry, a compilation that claimed to be every law passed since the Wizengamot had been created, and pretty much one of every book from the muggleborn author's section. It was a good thing that I'd already bought my trunk (which had a weightless and shrinking option that I could use without a wand), because it took me eight trips with my arms full of books before I decided to finish up for the day. I think if the cashier had sneezed at the end of my expedition into the stacks, his eyes would have popped out of his head.

"Off to Hogwarts, then?" he asked faintly. I arched an eyebrow and nodded. After I paid and started to head out the store, I heard him comment to a coworker that I was a Ravenclaw if he'd ever seen one. I snorted lightly. I wasn't really sure what house I would end up in, but a voracious love of books does not a Ravenclaw make.

After some debate, I returned to Privet Drive. After all, my relatives didn't really care enough to bother me all that much, and my trunk was easily hidden. In addition, my first plan of staying at a muggle hotel wasn't really very functional, and staying at the Leaky Cauldron wasn't exactly a good idea while I was trying to stay off of Dumbledore's radar. 'On that note, maybe I should buy the wand Original!Harry had in addition to my wand. It'd only work if Dumbledore didn't know what that wand looks like though…' I thought. 'But that might raise his suspicion, since he probably has some way of knowing that I had to come back for my wand in a week. Maybe I can ask Ollivander to spin some tail about having to add another core or use a different wood for the wand. Oh well, either way it'll be a week before I'm back, and I've got a lot of reading to do!'

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Going through the books I'd bought was just as frustrating as buying them. The laws were archaic and outdated at best, and horrifically racist, species centric, and ethnocentric at worst. Werewolves weren't allowed to speak in court, whether at their own trial or as a witness at someone else's. Vampires weren't even given the right to be arrested, but were killed on sight. Mermaids weren't really brought up much, but centaurs could be killed out of hand if they wandered off of their assigned areas. But what really took the cake was how muggleborns were treated. Like werewolves, muggleborns weren't allowed to speak in court, unless they had the backing of at least three pureblood sponsors or ten halfblood sponsors, which was reduced to five if all were from respected families. If a muggleborn was convicted of a crime, no matter how minor, a pureblood could kill them while 'trying to capture the criminal' and get off scot free. With halfbloods it depended on what family they were from, but were generally fairly safe from repercussions, while if a muggleborn killed a muggleborn criminal during an attempt at capture they were put on trial themselves. A muggleborn could not become a head of a department at the Ministry without at least fifty years of experience, while a pureblood had no limit and a halfblood only had to have a decade's experience. The list went on and on. And guess what? A good majority of these laws had come into place after Dumbledore gained a seat on the Wizengamot. If you looked carefully at the voters, there were always just enough from Dumbledore's side that switched to the 'other side' for that specific vote to pass. Now isn't that just a handy-dandy little coincidence?

After I grew so pissed off that I ended up ripping out a page when I went to turn it, I decided I had had enough of politics and manipulation and moved to my text books, starting with potions. I wanted to not take any chances where Snape was concerned, and also, potions. I loved chemistry, and potions had to have at least vaguely similar principles. As I had expected, the book I had picked up that explained things like precisely how dicing and chunking differed helped me to understand the textbook much better. The textbook itself didn't go into the why's and wherefore's, but the handy-dandy little manual, written by a muggleborn five years ago, went into that quite thoroughly. Amusingly enough, the author's note at the beginning of the book said, "For everyone who has to deal with Snape without being taught the basics of brewing beforehand."

After I had gone over the entirety of the book, along with the second year text book, I moved on to charms and transfiguration. I figured these would be the hardest for me to wrap my head around, because from what I remembered from before they essentially threw physics out the window and ushered biology out of the door all quiet-like. Surprisingly, they did have some explanation for why they did what they did, but it was still pretty vague for someone who had been studying advanced and well-documented forms of science for the last couple of years. I decided that further breakthroughs in the how's of magic would have to wait until I was at Hogwarts and had access to the library and the Room of Requirement.

Next, I started on the beginnings of runes and arithmancy. Really, the start of arithmancy just went over what was essentially basic algebra, but I suppose that was fair enough because it wasn't like the thirteen year olds who started arithmancy probably kept up with studying math. It went through the material pretty quickly though, by the end of the first textbook there were some pretty advanced Algebra II principles were being introduced. Runes was very interesting. It started off with what kind of could be considered a basic alphabet, but fairly early on it introduced how a rune could radically change in meaning from just a slight change in positioning or combination. Another very intriguing aspect was that about a quarter of the way into the book basic spells were shown in their runic forms. Studying both the runic forms and the actual spells would be a huge advantage in figuring out how they worked.

The week continued on in that vein, until it was finally time for me to return to Ollivander's and claim my wand.

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…hi… Sorry guys, I have no more inspiration for this chapter. I have the next chapter pretty much planned out, and if all goes to plan we'll be at Hogwarts after that. As you probably have realized, I've been going over the previous chapters, and I was wondering if you guys think I should combine the first couple or not. I'll probably get the next chapter out much quicker as my spring break's coming up. Until then, hope you enjoy.

~whoknowsyourfuture


	7. Until the Day Before

Published 8/24/2016

If I owned Harry Potter, I would have a horse in the state where I'm going to college, a truck, and a trailer.

"Did you ever stop to think, and then forget to start again?" -A.A. Milne

* * *

Luckily, there was a group at the entrance to Diagon Alley when I got there, otherwise I would have had to explain to Tom why I still didn't have a wand. It probably wasn't unusual enough to raise much notice, but I did want to stay as far below the radar as possible. I arrived at Ollivander's a little early, but the wandmaker was already tapping his foot in impatience and grinning with excitement by the time I got there. As soon as I was through the door he flipped the sign to closed and darted off to the back.

"Come, come! Oh, I think this was my best work yet! Tricky, of course, but it turned out so beautifully!" he rambled on. Finally, we reached the same space we had talked in before, where a rectangular box was perched on the table.

"Go on, give it a wave." Ollivander demanded impatiently. I could tell he was only just restraining himself from snatching up the box and thrusting the wand into my hand just to speed up the process. I stepped forward, lifting the box from the table and removing the lid. Inside was a gorgeous wand made of two different light-colored woods, with engravings of feathers and leaves curling around the handle. I flicked the wand, and a cascade of golden sparks burst from the tip. A wave of warmth swirled across my skin and the room suddenly smelt of flowers.

"Ah." Ollivander sighed happily. "She likes you very much." At my raised eyebrow, he continued. "I try to match a wand that emits sparks to each of my customers. That is usually the best indicator of a good pairing. However, sometimes there is more to the first reaction, and that is when I know that is an extraordinary pairing. Anyways, your wand is made of from cedar and beech, and your cores are phoenix feather and the quill of a particularly beautiful griffin, along with your hair. She should serve you well as long as you treat her well."

I grinned. "I have no intention of treating her ill." I hesitated. "Should I also purchase the wand my counterpart would have bought according to cannon? I'm fairly sure Dumbledore is expecting me to show up with it at Hogwarts."

"Which wand is it?" Ollivander asked curiously.

I grinned wryly. "The brother wand to Voldemort's." I replied. "It ends up being pretty significant in cannon.

"Hmm." He pondered. "Dumbledore has never asked me about the wand, so I am fairly certain that he has never seen it. However, he could have ways that I don't know about. Luckily, depending on the tree, holly, beech, and cedar can all look almost identical. If it comes up, we can just say that it is the brother wand, but I had to insert your griffin feather, and so, the design changed." He frowned concernedly. "Do you think having the other wand would give you an advantage over Voldemort?" he asked. I shrugged.

"Possibly." I answered. "But the slight advantage I would gain would be negated soon after our first corporeal encounter, if all goes according to cannon. He starts trying to acquire more powerful wands, ones that are not bound by brother cores." I looked at him significantly. "I think you can guess where I'm going with this."

Ollivander paled. "You mean to say, he found the Elder Wand?" he gasped.

"Yes," I replied, "and in cannon it was only through sheer dumb luck that it did not accept him as its master."

He sighed in relief. "Well, if that is what it would lead to, perhaps it would be better for me to just keep the wand here, hidden."

I nodded in agreement. "As long as it doesn't come to Dumbledore's attention, that's probably for the best." I sighed, rubbing at my eyes. "Do you have any more information about twice-born?" I asked. "Like if their magic is any different from normal wizards, or just other things I should know about."

Ollivander nodded. "My family has kept a journal on the twice-born ever since the first of my ancestors to know about them. Do you want information on their past lives, or the lives they lived here?"

"Both." I replied. "I'm going to need all the help I can get."

"I'll be right back." Ollivander said, turning to slip through one of the aisles of shelves. He returned quickly, with a slim leather book. I raised an eyebrow at him and he grinned mischievously in return. "It may not look like much," he said cheerfully, "but we keep all of the originals in a safe place. This is linked to them through the index, so you just have to select which journal you want to read at the time. This one is also locked to your wand signature, so others will have a harder time of getting into it." He finished explaining. "Is there anything else you need?" he asked.

"A wand holster." I replied, grinning.

* * *

My life continued in much of the same vein for the remainder of my time at the Dursley's. I ignored them and studied, and they ignored me and didn't study. Finally, on the evening of the thirty-first of August, I approached Petunia and Vernon.

"Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, I'm heading to Hogwarts tomorrow." Vernon just grunted, apparently not even noticing where I had said I was going. Petunia, however, had a much different reaction.

"WHAT?!" she exclaimed in shock, loudly.

"You heard what I said, Aunt." I said mildly, raising a brow.

"What- how-" she stuttered, finally grabbing Vernon's attention.

"What's wrong Pet?" he asked, still unconcerned.

"The- he- he's just said he's going to Hogwarts!" she asked, trying to recover. My uncle just looked confused.

I sighed. "It's the school my parents went to, Uncle." I explained. That finally clicked. His face went purple in less than a second, a new record. "YOU WILL NOT GO TO A, A, JOKE OF A SCHOOL! I WILL NOT PAY FOR THIS NONSENSE!" I cut him off there.

"It's already paid for. My parents set it up before I died. Look, all I'd be able to do right now is stay here and do nothing," I said, conveniently leaving out that I could pursue another degree, "or I can go to school and you can tell the neighbors that I'm doing an internship or something. I'll only come back in the summer long enough to maintain the wards that keep other wizards away." I finished, with what would hopefully be the selling point.

The wind had gone out of Vernon's sails once I finished my spiel. "Oh." He said weakly. He blustered a bit more, saying "I won't take you to wherever your freak school is!"

"That's fine." I said calmly. "I can get there on my own." And the matter was settled.

* * *

…..Ummmm….Sorry? In my defense, I came down with the worst case of the flu I've had in years over spring break, and basically everything compiled into a perfect storm to keep me from writing this afterwards. I had a period where I had a really good streak of inspiration for another fic that's not up yet (sorry) and then I had a bout of inspiration for my original work that is going on three years old now. I could have made this a bit longer, but if I cut it off now I might get another chapter done in less than six months….yeah. Sorry.


	8. Friends, Enemies, Who Knows

Published November 28, 2016

If I owned Harry Potter, the American Magical society would be much, much different. Sorry, just watched Fantastic Beasts.

"Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?" ~Abraham Lincoln

* * *

The next morning I arrived at Platform 9 ¾ at nine o'clock, well ahead of the departure time. My vaguely pathological fear of being late had not disappeared at the end of my first life, but had instead increased. I claimed a compartment near the back of the train and settled in to read, hoping to not be disturbed for a few hours. I still hadn't decided what I was going to do about Ron, Hermione, and Draco yet. Mrs. Weasley's blatant call for lost muggle-raised kids (particularly for one with a lightning-bolt shaped scar) hadn't set well with me once I was old enough to recognize the blatant manipulation that ran rampant in cannon. 'I'll just have to play it by ear, I suppose.' I thought, sighing. Soon enough, the train pulled out of the station. Minutes afterward, the door to my compartment banged open.

"Have you seen Harry Potter?" a familiarly freckled red-head demanded abruptly. I raised an eyebrow questioningly, and he snorted and left the compartment, neglecting to close the door.

'Well.' I thought, exasperated, as I closed the door, 'That answers that question. Lovely. Just what I needed. Either Ron just knows I'm of the age to come to Hogwarts and is as obsessed with me as Ginny is, or Dumbledore already has him in his pockets.'

I settled back down to read. Some time later, the door opened again, in a normal fashion again, and I looked up from my book.

"Have you seen a toad? Neville's lost his." declared another familiar figure, this time a girl with brown, bushy hair. The boy in question stood timidly behind her.

"No, I haven't." I replied. "Have you asked a Prefect to help you find him?" I enquired.

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that." Hermione replied, a bit embarrassed. "How do we tell which ones are Prefects?" she asked.

"They should be wearing a badge, as far as I know." I responded. "Do you have a compartment already? There's plenty of space here, if you want to come back after you've found Neville's toad." I offered. I wasn't sure about them yet, but I figured I might as well give them a chance.

"Sure!" Hermione agreed eagerly. She turned to Neville and asked, "Is that alright with you?"

"If you don't mind…" Neville half-asked me timidly. I smiled.

"If I minded I wouldn't have offered." I reassured him. They left and returned in short order, dragging their trunks behind them and with a toad securely clenched in Neville's hand.

"My name's Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger." Hermione said once they had gotten settled. "This is Neville Longbottom." She waved at Neville. He offered a short half-wave.

"Harry." I said, not wanting to give anything away just yet. Hermione frowned, and to distract her I closed my book, which was about potions. Her eyes lit up, and Hermione was off and away on a rapid-fire questioning session.

"Oh, I've read that book! It was rather interesting, but I'm not quite sure how I feel about how the author talked about Professor Snape, it was quite disrespectful. Have you read Ogden's Treatise on Poisonous Herbs and Roots? Potions seems so fascinating…" She continued on for some time, and then abruptly stopped, blushing. "I'm sorry, I got rather carried away." She said.

"It's quite all right. Honestly, I see the preface in this book as something of a warning, as the author did take seven years of Potions from Professor Snape. It seems like most only manage five, if that. I've read Ogden's Treatise, but he contradicts the methods of most other texts, including this one. In my experience, that either means that he's a genius pioneer or very wrong. Most of the reviews of the book that I've read indicate the former." I replied to the beginning of her rant calmly.

"But the treatise was right at the front of Flourish and Blotts!" Hermione exclaimed, scandalized. "It's the newest Potions text out!" she huffed angrily.

"Actually, it was published in 1753." Neville broke in timidly.

"What!?" Hermione rounded on him, nostrils flaring.

"They tend to put books written by purebloods at the front of the stores, no matter how old." Neville finished with a squeak.

"But why?" asked Hermione, shocked.

"Well, the British magical word has a tiny bit of a problem with blood superiority." I said dryly. "If you dig deep enough into the laws, you find a rather disturbing pattern of inbreeding and inclination to reward and promote based on who you are rather than what you can do." I finished, examining my nails.

"I don't believe you!" Hermione snapped, flouncing out of the door, not even bothering to collect her trunk.

"That went well." I remarked to Neville. He snickered a bit.

"How did you know all of that?" he asked. "I know a bit of it, well, because I'm the heir to the Longbottom family and my Gran's been pounding law into me for years, but how do you?" He looked down bashfully as he admitted his heritage, but looked back up at the end of his question.

I laughed quietly. "A month of endless study." I told him ruefully. "I'm muggle-raised, and I didn't know about magic until my birthday. I wanted to understand the world I'm entering, so…" I shrugged. Neville nodded, accepting my explanation. He pulled out a pack of cards, asking if I wanted to play Exploding Snap, and I accepted. We played for a time, until we were interrupted by the third figure I'd been expecting.

"Hello Longbottom." Drawled another familiar figure, this time with light blond hair and a sharp face. He threw himself on the seat next to Neville, sprawling dramatically. Crabbe and Goyle lingered awkwardly in the door behind him. "There's a Muggleborn stomping up and down the train, snarling about a boy lying about books. It's exhausting just watching her."

"Hello Draco." Neville replied, smiling a bit. "Draco, this is Harry. Harry, this is Draco Malfoy. We've known each other since we were young. This is Vincent Crabbe," Neville gestured to one of the pair, "and Gregory Goyle." gesturing to the other. "We've also known each other for a while." He finished.

"Hello, it's nice to meet you." I said politely. "Would you like to sit down?" I asked Crabbe and Goyle. Glancing at Draco, they nodded and sat down as I scooted over. The other booth was occupied by Neville and the dramatic blond. Draco raised up on an elbow to look at me suspiciously, then lay back down again with his arm draped over his eyes. Just as we had all gotten settled, the door banged open again. I sighed in exasperation.

"Could you please stop banging the door?" I asked Ron, annoyed. "It's rather rude, and the door's never done anything to you.

"Are you Harry Potter?" he demanded.

"Yes," I replied, "but it's also quite rude to demand someone's name and not offer your own."

"You didn't tell me earlier!" he said, voice rising.

"Earlier, you slammed open the door, demanded to know if Harry Potter was in here, looked at me and left in a huff. I assumed that there was another Harry Potter that you held a grudge against." I responded mildly. "It's not like Harry Potter is an uncommon name." I added, smiling obliviously. Ron's mouth gaped open and closed for a few moments, and then he started sputtering.

"But-but- you're Harry Potter!" He spluttered, astonished.

"Yes, I know my own name, thank you." I replied. "Now, if you are just going to stand there and blather nonsense, will you please leave." I stated, still in my most polite act. Inwardly, I was laughing my head off. Messing with him was the most entertainment I'd had since Dudley decided that the appropriate way to respond to dying in a video game was to smash everything involved. A disgusting example of how spoiled he was, certainly, but still hilarious to the little part of me that finds other people's frustration enjoyable. I stood, and gently pushed his still sputtering frame out of the compartment, locking the door behind him. I sat back down, smiling and asking, "Now where were we?"

Draco burst into laughter. I pasted a politely confused expression onto my face and waited for the interrogation to start.

"His face!" Draco howled, pounding the seat underneath him with his fist. "Oh, you tricked him so well!" He continued laughing, and then looked at me. My expression suddenly registered, and he sobered. "You do know who you are, right?" he asked, half unsure.

"In the way that most people know themselves, yes." I deadpanned. "Does my name have some relevance to the Wizarding word?" I asked blandly. I saw Neville realize what was going on and winked at him. He grinned and settled in for the show.

"But, you're Harry Potter! The Boy Who Lived!" Draco exclaimed. "You have to know!"

"Yeah, no clue what you're talking about." It was getting hard to keep a straight face.

"You defeated You-Know-Who!" Draco continued, growing more and more shocked.

"No, I don't know who." I replied. Neville's face twitched, and I broke, cackling.

"You do know!" Draco exclaimed, affronted.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I managed through the laughter. "I just couldn't help it!"

"You knew!" Draco rounded on Neville, who was laughing as hard as I was.

"Not until Weasley barged in," he gasped out, "I just figured out he was playing you a minute ago!"

Draco huffed, offended, and stood to leave. I grabbed his wrist.

"Hey, I really am sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. It was just too perfect an opportunity to pass up." I apologized. He grumbled, but sat back down.

"So, what are you really like, then?" he demanded imperiously. "Obviously, there's books about you, but half of them are ridiculous. A six year old can't fight a dragon and win."

"Oh, thank god." I groaned. "You're the first person I've met that's realized how stupid those are!"

Draco's brows rose incredulously. "How many people believe that? The entire British Magical community?" he asked, incredulous.

"What, no, I've only met a few people, but still." I replied, shrugging. "I only learned about magic a month ago." Dead silence followed my statement. "What?" I asked.

"You didn't learn about magic. Until a month ago." Draco said flatly. I shrugged again.

"My aunt and uncle raised me. They don't have magic, and I've gotten the impression they don't like it much." I eyed the compartment. I had a feeling about the way this was going to go.

"Harry," Neville began, "Everyone thought you were being raised with magic. There's a section in Witch Weekly on Potter Sightings."

I facepalmed. "Seriously." I asked flatly, not lifting my face from my hand.

"Yeah…" Neville replied. We were prevented from the rest of what promised to be a very awkward conversation by a sudden slowing of the train. Neville and I started scrambling for our robes as Draco, Crabbe and Goyle left to find theirs. We had finally arrived at Hogwarts.

* * *

Well, this is less than six months. Honestly, I had no clue where I was going to go with all these characters until I sat down to write. So, I have a couple questions for you. One, do you want me to really make a proper magical society for the U.S.? I am completely willing to do it, I'm just not sure if you want to read it. Second, what do you want me to do with Hermione? I've kind of left her character open for different possible relationships with Harry. I'll try to figure out how to do a poll so you can vote on that if you want. Finals and winter break are coming up soon, so hopefully I'll manage to post something before the end of the year. Also, I've got the prologue for my new fic up, first chapter is about halfway done, I'm just arguing with a couple of characters. Thanks everybody!


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